


Reversing Retrograde

by twinyards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Minor Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Pining, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:30:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinyards/pseuds/twinyards
Summary: “You have to find an anchor, a better one than your dad,” Scott urged him, and they were so close that Isaac could taste the mint on Scott’s breath caressing him lips as Scott spoke. “Your memories of him are too unstable.”Tension crackled between them like a microscopic thunderstorm, the air crisp with static as lightning built beneath their skin.His voice came out in a whisper that was closer to a gasp. “What if you’re my anchor?”





	Reversing Retrograde

It had been growing for a while, the unfamiliar ache of tension building to an unbearable high in his chest. Isaac Lahey had many times made a familiar acquaintance of fear, pain, anguish; but this was something different. Something lighter, with far faster pitch in the race of his heart.

There were things you felt, things that built and crested and crashed like waves against the walls of your heart. Things that filled you to the brim until you couldn’t open your mouth without breathing them in.

What a peculiar feeling: to be drowning and not want it to stop.

Loyalty was something Isaac had never experienced, a concept he’d never even considered in his early life. For Isaac, loyalty was as foreign as a country he’d never been to. He knew the basic idea, what other people said, but he didn’t truly understand. How could you bind yourself to someone or something so completely that you’d be willing to do anything, even lose your own life? How could survival not come first, always? Surviving, that was all Isaac ever did. He hunkered down and let the fear keep him alive.

Before Cam had died, they’d had an unspoken pact never to hurt each other the way their father had hurt them. And that was close to loyalty, Isaac supposed, but it had never driven Cam to take a hit for Isaac, had never led him to protect his little brother. They wouldn’t hurt each other, but they wouldn’t protect each other either. It had barely changed things for Isaac when Cam had left. His father was still his father. His brother was still an asshole, and now he was a dead asshole to boot.

Their father had been a special kind of bastard; born and bred in the darkest, seediest pit of hell before being unleashed on the world - on Isaac. Devotion to his father had never been based on loyalty or love or respect. No, Isaac did everything his father asked out of _fear_. Fear of the dark, of the way his screams echoed back at him from the confines of his small metal prison. Isaac had long ago lost track of the claw marks his very human fingernails had carved into the walls, the ones that catalogued the hours and days spent screaming into an endless black that no one could penetrate.

When his father died, he didn’t feel guilt or remorse. Instead, he felt a cool resolve. A sick sense of relief. Isaac had wanted to kill the man for years, but in the end, Jackson did him that favor. Or maybe it was Matt. He’d never quite grasped the edges of the blurry lines between kanima and master.

Tasting loyalty came for the first time after the bite. Every cell in his body had changed, written itself. And Isaac had changed too, down to the very essence of his being.

He wasn’t afraid anymore, not in the all-consuming, soul-crushing way he’d been before. Changing had made him strong, and not just physically. His strength of will had grown tenfold. It was why he learned to control himself during the full moon so much faster than Erica and Boyd. Why he was often the one Scott’s pack gravitated toward when they needed some sense of reason. And it was why loyalty to Derek bled from Isaac like ink in water.

Derek had given him all the things he’d spent his whole life longing for: courage, strength, a sense of belonging. And Isaac loved it. The power. The rush. He was happier galivanting around with Erica causing mayhem for Scott and his friends than he’d ever been in his old life. Even when he was fugitive, he was _alive_. The power made him drunk – made him rise and twist and change until he was something almost unrecognizable from what he’d once been.

It was a sick sense of superiority, a rush of filling the void he’d always felt so strongly separated him from the rest, that made him cruel and careless. The world had never cared about Isaac, so Isaac didn’t care about the world.

Isaac hadn’t realized he wanted to feel something different until the rave. Until Jackson’s crazy ass had actually made Derek and Scott work together. Which he supposed wasn’t all that surprising. Derek had a soft spot for Scott that he didn’t have for Isaac or the others. A quiet kind of respect. Derek might have been the Alpha, and he might have been the eldest among them, but the only thing that ever changed Derek’s mind was Scott McCall.

And Isaac hadn’t understood that. He really, truly didn’t get what the hell was so damn special about Scott McCall. Because Scott was just another dumb kid in way over his head, and he was an idiot to think that Stiles, Allison, and Lydia were a pack. Scott had _voluntarily_ made himself an Omega, when everyone knew that a wolf was only as strong as the pack, and Isaac couldn’t find it in himself to respect someone that stupid.

Until Scott had pressed the needle into his hand, and Isaac had been dumbfounded by the concern and anxiety painting Scott’s expression. Because it hadn’t been for Stiles or Lydia or Allison, but for _him_. And when Scott had told him to _be careful_ , Isaac couldn’t help asking why Scott even cared. Scott’s answer had tilted Isaac’s world off its axis.

_I don’t want you to get hurt_.

And that’s when Isaac had woken up, or started to. When he realized that his loyalty to Derek was blind, because Isaac had never wanted to be cruel. He just hadn’t wanted to be scared. He’d never wanted to be the villain in somebody’s narrative. He’d just wanted to play a leading role. Of all the damn people in the world, it had to be Scott McCall who reminded Isaac of who he wanted to be.

Where things went from there was an accident.

Isaac had never been sure when his loyalty to Derek truly started to waiver. Maybe after Erica died, and Derek didn’t do anything about it. Maybe when he started to realize that Derek didn’t know what the hell he was doing either, and his false bravado was going to get them all killed one by one. Instinct kept him in his pack, to his alpha, to Derek by insubstantial thread.

But it wasn’t Derek that helped Isaac fight back against the Alpha Twins. And it wasn’t Derek who talked Isaac out of his panic when he nearly killed Allison. And it definitely wasn’t Derek who reminded Isaac that he was still capable of redemption.

It was Scott.

Always Scott.

So it was Scott who Isaac turned to when Derek decided Isaac was no longer worth his time; when he threw a glass at Isaac’s head the way his father had thrown that pitcher the night he died. And Isaac was still surprised, despite everything, when Scott let him in without a second thought and told Melissa that Isaac was going to be staying with them until further notice.

Living with Scott and Melissa was a life Isaac never had. He barely remembered his own mother, who’d been too long dead for him to conjure her face in his memory. Because Melissa didn’t just let him in the door. She proofread his essays for English and learned how to cook all his favorite foods, so he felt more comfortable. They hadn’t just given him a bed and sanctuary.

They’d given him a home.

The tension in his chest, it began the moment the McCalls decided Isaac was worth something. Worthy of love and respect and redemption.

After they thought Derek was dead, Isaac had gone into a nosedive. Not just because he’d lost his Alpha. But because they were on that stupid bus, and Scott had been trying to distract Boyd from launching himself at Ethan without a care for the dozen other kids who would bear witness, and _Scott hadn’t been healing_.

And, of course, Scott had insisted he was fine, but they’d all known that he wasn’t. Something had been very, very wrong, and Isaac couldn’t fix it. The urge to climb over Boyd and forcefully remove Stiles from his seat so Isaac could examine the wound had been so overpowering that he dug his claws into his thigh to keep himself in his seat. Derek was gone. Erica was gone. Isaac wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – lose anyone else. If anything happened to Scott… If anything happened to Scott, well Isaac didn’t know what he’d do.

When Stiles and Allison had half carried, half dragged Scott into the bathroom of the rest stop, Isaac had lost his mind. Because he could hear Scott’s heart beating out a faint, unsteady rhythm, and it was only getting slower. Scott was barely clinging to life, and Isaac was barely clinging to sanity.

When Ethan flashed him a sneer, he’d snapped completely.

Later, Isaac didn’t remember when he’d started hitting the other boy, didn’t remember forcing that stupid, smug face to the ground and smashing his fist into his jaw. Ethan hadn’t fought back, not with Danny around to keep him passive; make sure he still looked harmless. And Isaac didn’t care. He was living for it. Every collision of his knuckles against Ethan’s skull should have brought him relief, but he’d only gotten angrier with each second that passed. Only more desperate to release that horrid feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt since his mom died.

He knew people were calling out to him to stop, knew that people were yelling or crying or gasping with anxiety. And he didn’t care, couldn’t find it in himself to stop until he heard his name. Just once. One strong, unhindered voice breached the rest, a command and a beacon.

When Isaac lifted his head, and Scott was standing there, healed and walking and looking at Isaac like he might be insane, Isaac had _smiled_.

So maybe it had been after that. Maybe it had been then that Isaac realized Scott was more to him. More than a friend. More than a roommate. More than just another wolf.

And fuck if it hadn’t hurt.

He’d been at lunch when Stiles dropped like a crash into the seat across from him, breaching his peaceful and somewhat NSFW daydreams with his usual expression of doom and gloom. Stiles always had something on his mind, was always calculating the risk and reality of their situations and circumstance. Isaac hated it. Stiles was smart, but he killed a good vibe.

“What do you want?” Isaac mumbled, tucking his index finger into the crook of his book, even though he’d reread the same page at least ten times and still hadn’t absorbed a single word.

Stiles gave him a cursory once over. The kind of look that made Isaac’s skin crawl. Being observed was a new feeling for him. He’d always conveniently faded into the background before. Hanging around with Stiles and Scott had changed things. Now he was a focal point, the person people’s eyes followed around the room.

“What’s going on with you and Scott?” The words tumbled out of Stiles mouth without hesitation, and Isaac felt his heart beat trip over itself with anxiety.

He’d been careful, hadn’t he? He hadn’t said a word. No, there was no way Stiles could know. Isaac had been distant if anything. He’d played it cool. Helped when asked, kept to himself when he wasn’t needed. Even though he longed to be needed…

“What are you talking about?” He almost kicked himself when his voice came out unsteady, suspect.

Stiles lifted a considering eyebrow. “I’m talking about the fact that I’ve spent the last twenty minutes listening to Scott ramble about how he thinks you’re uncomfortable at his house. He thinks him and Melissa upset you or something.”

Guilt cracked him across the chest. Isaac hadn’t thought of that. How Scott and Melissa would view his distance. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them. The last thing he’d wanted was them thinking he took what they’d done for him for granted.

“No, no of course not.” He managed to choke out. “I just… With Derek and Boyd and all that. I’ve been off.”

“Off with Allison, you mean?”

Isaac choked on the air. His eyes were wild, anxiety ratcheting up to outright terror. Because Allison Argent was Isaac’s second best kept secret. What they had… It didn’t mean much, and they both knew it. But the world would be surprised how mutual pining for the same person could bring too people together. Frustrations had to be released, and Isaac would have been a fool not to take Allison up on the offer.

“I – I, uh,” Isaac couldn’t find words.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Relax. I don’t think Scott knows about it.” Isaac loosed a breath and gulped in a gallon of air. “Eh, maybe not that relaxed. You gotta stop with that, dude. Scott’s a nice guy, but Allison is a serious no no. You know better than that.”

Stiles didn’t wait for Isaac to answer but simply stood and stalked away, likely in search of Scott of Lydia. Because they both knew the truth. Isaac _did_ know better. He’d always known hooking up with Allison would come back to bite him in the ass, but Allison _understood_. In a different way, because she’d loved Scott and still did but didn’t want to want him anymore. But they had something in common. They both wanted someone they knew they couldn’t or shouldn’t have. And Allison was a picture perfect distraction when tensions built and a pretty good listener when Isaac was crawling out of his skin.

She alone knew his biggest secret.

That he was in love with Scott McCall.

* * *

 

Something was different. Wrong. Other. And despite his newly improved senses, Scott couldn’t put his finger on it.

Isaac had been avoiding him for days. Which was a hard thing, when they shared three classes _and_ lived together. But Isaac had been coming home later and later, pausing outside Scott’s door before ushering himself on to his own, and at school he never looked Scott’s direction. Not even a glance, unless Scott called out to him. And even then, Scott got monosyllabic responses and a quick excuse to exit the conversation.

He had no idea what he’d done wrong.

Stiles said it was nothing, that Isaac was probably just ‘another sour wolf’. It didn’t do anything to ease Scott’s nerves. Things had been weird between them for a while, even before the avoidance. In fact, ever since they’d found out Derek wasn’t dead, Isaac had found every excuse in the world not to be anywhere in Scott’s vicinity.

“I don’t know what I did,” he confessed, rubbing his temples while Allison and Lydia looked at him, bored. Stiles had already disappeared, long grown tired of Scott’s insecurities. “I thought we were finally getting somewhere. We were talking a lot. I thought we were friends.”

Allison bit her lip, clearly wanting to say something and not knowing how to say it without betraying Isaac’s trust. Scott wasn’t blind, he knew they’d been spending a lot of time together. And it hurt, of course it did, but not for the reasons he’d expected. Allison had broken up with _him_ , did she really have to steal Isaac from him too?

“He’s been having a rough time,” Allison finally admitted, “since Boyd died. Isaac isn’t good with losing people. Before he turned, he hadn’t really had people to lose in a really long time. And now he’s lost two, almost three, in a few months. I think he just needs time to adjust to that. It’s a heavy burden to bear.”

That made sense to Scott, and he’d thought of it too. Of course, Isaac would be affected by Boyd’s dying; they all were. Even Cora was a wreck, and she’d only known Boyd a few short weeks. They were all grieving, all trying to cope in their own ways. Scott just didn’t understand why Isaac wouldn’t let him _help._

Months of living together had taught Scott when Isaac wanted to be left alone and when he wanted to talk. They’d spent a fair amount of time sprawled across Scott’s floor (Isaac refused to sit on his bed, for reasons Scott couldn’t discern), talking about the strange world they’d found themselves in and what it had done to them. What they’d gained and what they’d lost. Isaac hadn’t had any trouble talking to Scott back then.

In fact, Scott had thought Isaac liked talking to him. There’d been such ease between them, the unspoken promise not to judge. Isaac had helped Scott smooth out the sharp edges of his broken heart and shattered hopes, and all he wanted was to do the same.

Isaac was more than just his roommate. He was important to Scott. More important than most.

“Why won’t he talk to me then? We talked about everything before.”

Lydia let out a bored sigh. “Unrequited love sucks. Give the kid awhile to get over it.” The world ground to a halt. Scott held his breath. Allison looked like she might faint. Horror was painted across her face, and Scott could hear the unsteady beat of panic in her heart. Lydia looked up when the silence stretched too long, her expression turning to disdain when she saw Scott’s confusion. “You’re really that oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Lydia-” Allison began, but Scott cut her off.

“What do you mean unrequited love? Who does Isaac love?” Allison open her mouth once again, but closed it when Scott snarled, “I want to hear what she has to say.”

Lydia cast an uncertain glance between them before shrugging. “You, obviously.”

“WHAT?”

Scott couldn’t help his incredulous tone. Isaac? In love with him? That didn’t make any sense. Isaac wouldn’t even look at him. His heart claimed an unsteady beat, anxiety turning his fingernails into claws that scraped and scratched at the aluminum bench they sat at.

His mind twisted and turned through all their shared memories. Moments Isaac had lingered a moment to long, the unnecessary touches Scott had always assumed were for the relief of physical contact, the time Isaac had insisted Scott take his jacket when they’d gone out for dinner and Scott had shivered on the way back to the car.

They’d been friendly gestures from a kid who’d never had anyone to depend on, anyone to trust. Or at least that’s what Scott had thought. Now, he was considering the possibility that he’d been, very, very wrong.

-

Festering. Scott was festering. Studying with Stiles had turned into Stiles studying and Scott silently devolving into an existential crisis while staring at the ceiling. The seed Lydia had planted was growing by the second, becoming something else entirely. He was overwhelmed by the strength of it, and even more so by the fact that it didn’t bother him. Not in the slightest.

He’d never considered Isaac in that light before. Allison had preoccupied his mind so thoroughly and completely, Scott hadn’t stopped for a moment to consider that anyone else could ever look at him that way. In fact, aside from the awkward make-out attack Lydia had planted on him in coach’s office sophomore year, Scott couldn’t remember anyone but Allison ever displaying any interest in him at all. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to tell when someone was into him. The only person who ever obviously displayed their feelings was Stiles, and that’s because the kid’s mind moved too fast to keep him from putting his foot in his mouth.

But Isaac… He wasn’t bad looking. He was rather handsome, actually. Scott had always thought so, in a passing sort of way. He’d never stopped to linger on the details. Like how Isaac’s hair wasn’t quite unruly, but had the kind of curl that made you want to twirl it around your finger. Or how when he wore a looser t-shirt, he always wore a scarf to cover the peek of his collarbones and extenuate the line of his throat. Or how his eyes were just one shade away from ocean blue, brighter than a tropical sea.

No, Scott had definitely never stopped to think about those things before.

It was more than just aesthetics, though. Scott and Isaac got along in a way Scott rarely got along with anyone. They connected, intrinsically. And they challenged each other constantly. The more Scott thought about it, the more he realized he and Isaac just made each other better. Better friends. Better wolves. Better people.

Allison had boosted Scott’s confidence. Meeting her had sparked him, she was the matchstick to his tinder. Being with her had brought out all the pieces of Scott that he’d never dared bring to light, never had reason to. She’d shown him how to be brave, how to believe in himself, how to be the kind of person that wanted to save the day. And Scott would always love her for that. Fire would always run hot between them, she the oxygen fanning his flames.

Isaac was different than that. Whatever it was that was between them, because Scott was beginning to realize it wasn’t just friendship. But it was not like Allison’s flames. It was slower. Steadier. The kind of change you couldn’t see overnight. Isaac and Scott – they were a study in erosion; rock wearing down under the constant of wind and water to reveal something beautiful underneath. He didn’t know who was shaping who, or if they were shaping each other.

He was beginning to wonder if maybe Isaac’s feelings _weren’t_ unrequited. If maybe he’d blocked out the possibility of it, too focused on being back with Allison someday. But it was becoming clearer every day that Allison loved him but wanted to let him go. And Scott loved her enough to let her do that. She could move on, and he would let her. And maybe he could move on too.

Maybe he already had.

“What’s it feel like?” The worlds tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. That happened a lot around Stiles. Scott was so accustomed to being able to say whatever he wanted, that he rarely stopped to think of the words before he uttered them.

Stiles swiveled in his desk chair, twisting to face Scott instead of his computer. “What does what feel like?”

He nearly stopped, nearly convinced himself to let it go and study like he should have been doing for the past two hours. But Stiles was his best friend, and Scott needed his advice. Stiles might have had a problem holding still and keeping his sarcasm in check, but he’d never failed to give Scott sound advice, to even out Scott’s heightened emotions with his perspective.

“Being in love.” Scott sighed, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see the look Stiles was bound to be giving him. “I know you’re kind of hooked on Derek these days, but you’ve been in love with Lydia since like kindergarten. What does it feel like?”

Stiles sighed. That heavy, weighted kind of sigh that spoke of things unsaid but known, emotions too strong to defeat but too small to grow. The question clearly put a strain on him, but for Scott, Stiles would answer it.

“You know runner’s high?” Scott nodded. “When it’s good, it’s like that. Like when Lydia danced with me at Homecoming, I felt like I could run forever without stopping. Just ride that high until I finally fizzled out. But when it’s bad… When she’s with Jackson or Aiden, it’s like running a mile without the finish line ever coming into sight, and you know you can’t stop until you get there, but your lungs are on fire and you can’t catch your breath.”

Both of them paused, silence hung heavy in the air like a weighted blanket around their shoulders. Scott thought they were both thinking of how things could have been different. If Stiles would still love Lydia with the same steadfast intensity if Scott had never been bitten. If their lives would be uncomplicated and typical if they’d never met Allison or Derek or the rest. Maybe they’d be happier. Sometimes Scott wished he could go back to being nothing and no one, just another face in the crowd.

Sometimes he wondered if Stiles felt the same way. If all they’d been through was more than they could bear, and more kept coming… Would they turn back and change it all if they were given the chance?

“Why are you asking me about this anyway?” Stiles asked, eyeing Scott with a mixture of curiosity and unease. “You were in love with Allison. You know what it feels like.”

Scott shook his head and released a sigh that ended in a frustrated growl. “Allison was different. I know I was in love with her, but it didn’t feel like how I feel now.”

“You mean how you feel about Isaac?”

He didn’t know how Stiles knew; he’d never mentioned anything before. Well, until today, Scott hadn’t even realized there was anything to mention. But then again, Stiles had always been one step ahead of the rest of them, and he and Scott hadn’t been best friends for ten years for nothing. Stiles had always been the one to figure things out, to tell everyone else how things had the potential to go, so Scott didn’t bother to lie.

“Yeah, about Isaac.”

“I didn’t realize you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“How he felt about you.”

Scott’s head shot up, his eyes finally opening as he stared aghast at his friend. “Are you telling me everyone knew but me?”

Stiles cracked a smile, the kind of conspiratorial grin that had always made Scott feel like a part of something, even when it was just the two of them. “Dude, it’s pretty obvious. Last week his wore one of your jerseys to practice and then pretended he’d mistakenly pulled it out of the laundry.”

Scott’s face heated. Isaac had asked to borrow it, and Scott hadn’t questioned why. He’d given it over easily.

“Well, _I_ didn’t know, and now that I do, I don’t know what to do with it.” He growled in frustration.

This was new territory. Something he’d never experienced or thought he would. Scott had always found men attractive, but he’d thought it had been in an analytical sense. He’d never pined for one before. It only figured that his gay awakening would be for a six-foot-tall werewolf who just so happened to sleep one bedroom over.

Was there a difference? Was liking Isaac really any different than liking Allison? It felt different, less charged but more forceful. Considering it was beginning to give Scott the kind of migraine that made his teeth ache.

Across the room, Stiles continued to watch him curiously. That had been something that Scott had always appreciated about Stiles. Ninety percent of the time, the kid physically couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but when something important was happening, Stiles never opened his mouth until he had something important to say.

“Dude, I think you should just talk to him,” Stiles finally shrugged. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is a two-sided equation.”

He was right. Stiles had an annoying habit of nearly always being right, at least in part. And this was one topic on which Scott could not deny his best friend’s superior intellect. He needed to talk to Isaac.

He just had no idea what he was going to say.

* * *

Isaac had been pacing outside Scott’s room for nearly twenty minutes. He knew Scott could hear him, the same way he knew Scott always heard him pause outside when he came home from Allison’s at night. The difference tonight had come in the form of a warning from Allison.

Scott knew.

And Isaac was freaking the fuck out about it.

What was he even supposed to say? _Oh hey Scott, so Allison told you know I’m in love with you. And I’m just wondering, what’s your take on that?_ He was a werewolf, not a wordsmith. Isaac’s best lines were snarls of rage, not declarations of affection. This wasn’t going to go well. There was no way this could possibly go well.

Which was precisely the problem. Scott and Isaac _lived together_. Hiding his affections had been one thing, but having Scott know about them was another thing all together. Awkward would not begin to express the horror show of Isaac’s future if Scott didn’t feel the same way. And more than that, Isaac didn’t think he could stand to lose Scott. Not now, with Derek and Cora MIA, and Boyd and Erica dead. He needed Scott, in whatever form he could get him.

He flinched so hard when Scott opened his door that he hurtled against the wall, knocking down a large picture frame and eliciting a defeated, “BOYS!” from Melissa, who was always reminding them that her house was _not_ supernatural.

Scott offered him a shy, sympathetic smile. “Did you want to come in, or do you want me to let you pace a little while longer?”

Isaac bit his lip. His immediate urge was to say he wanted to continue pacing, but he could tell from the worried look on Scott’s face that that wouldn’t improve the situation for either of them. So he followed Scott inside his room, careful to stay clear of the bed, and tried desperately not to cringe when Scott closed the door behind him.

“So, you know.” He managed to choke out, the words not a question.

Scott wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah, I know.”

Anxiety ripped through him with the force of a hurricane. He’d really done it. He’d really ruined everything. Isaac was better at control than he’d been before, but he’d never been great at keeping himself from shifting when fear pressed in on him. Like the day he’d been trapped in the janitor’s closet with Allison, he could feel himself spilling over.

“Scott,” he gasped, and flung his panicked eyes in the other boy’s direction. “ _Scott_.”

His fingernails were growing, sharpening, and he could feel the change in his eyes, could see the yellow flash in Scott’s mirror. Isaac dug his fingers into his hair, his breath coming out in short, panicked gasps. Scott’s eyes widened, and without having to be asked, he rushed to the window above his bed and flung it open, before returning to him.

“Isaac, calm down,” Scott murmured. When he reached for him, Isaac flinched away, and hurt flashed bright and blinding across Scott’s face. Isaac hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he was scared of what he might do while out of control. “ _Isaac_!”

Before he could back away again, Scott’s hands were on his shoulders, his forehead pressed against Isaac’s and their eyes staring straight into each other’s. The effect was instantaneous. His pulse settled. His claws retracted. He sucked in his first full breath of air since he’d entered the house.

They stayed locked together, Scott’s grip on his shoulders never wavering as Isaac made his slow descent back to humanity. Touching like this, being this close, Isaac was amazed he gained control instead of lost it. His fantasies were coming to life. He should have been elated. Instead, he was terrified.

He’d never known things to be soft, had never experienced a hand that hadn’t meant to harm. But Scott’s hands were warm where they grasped his shoulders, his eyes smoldering not with rage but something Isaac found himself desperately hoping was desire. Isaac still shook, but not because he was losing control anymore.

“You have to find an anchor, a better one than your dad,” Scott urged him, and they were so close that Isaac could taste the mint on Scott’s breath caressing him lips as Scott spoke. “Your memories of him are too unstable.”

Tension crackled between them like a microscopic thunderstorm, the air crisp with static as lightning built beneath their skin.

His voice came out in a whisper that was closer to a gasp. “What if you’re my anchor?”

Silence cleaved the world, time slowed to a trickle. Isaac’s world narrowed to the two of them, Scott with his eyes on Isaac’s mouth and Isaac listening intently to the rising _thup thup thup_ of Scott’s heartbeat. Nothing existed outside of his field of vision; nothing outside of Scott and their breath tangled so thoroughly it had become one thing instead of two. Isaac could feel the change between them, the way you felt a shift in the wind or the way the sun escaped from behind a cloud to better warm your skin.

“You love me?” Scott whispered.

Isaac nodded.

“You’re in love with me?”

Another nod.

“Will you say it?”

Confusion made him pause, but Isaac didn’t know how to deny Scott. Not since that day at the rave, all those months ago. He murmured, “I’m in love with you.”

“Not Allison?”

“Not Allison.”

A cautious smile spread across Scott’s face, painting the picture of innocence that Isaac had grown so fond of. Scott looked so young and open when he smiled. The Scott that smiled hadn’t watched anyone die. The Scott that smiled was a boy trapped in a bad dream, and refused to be afraid of it. “Me neither.”

Isaac thought his heart might stop dead in his chest. “You don’t love her anymore?”

“Not the same way,” Scott shook his head, his hand reaching up to cup Isaac’s jaw. “Not for a while, I think.” His thumb ran a slow line across Isaac’s bottom lip, sending a shiver of desire down his spine. Scott looked up at him, voice oh so soft and quiet as he whispered, “Can I try something?”

Isaac didn’t say anything, too shocked to remember how to string together a sentence, but Scott must have seen the answer in his eyes, because suddenly his thumb was gone from Isaac’s mouth and he’d replaced it with his mouth.

The kiss was the clap of thunder and the flash of lightning, an electrical storm igniting the world in vivid flashes of color. Isaac’s hands in Scott’s hair and Scott cupping his face so tightly in his palms, the callouses on his fingers rising goosebumps across Isaac’s arms.

Hesitation had gone with the wind, and both of them could feel the undercurrent of change flowing between them. Both understood that the kiss was a promise not to go back to the ease they longed for. There would be no back stepping into Allison’s arms, or hiding away with Stiles, or going back to Derek. They were reversing retrograde, going back on going back. The kiss was a promise of a better tomorrow, a chance at redeeming the things they’d lost and finding the things they’d longed for.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this! I know it's years late, but I'm still stuck of Scisaac, and my TW rewatch really got me back on my bs. I'm debating writing a full length with with the likes of more Scisaac action, and maybe some Thiam in there. If you wonderful lovelies would be interested in reading something like that, let me know! As always, please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed <3 and thank you for reading!


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